


Children Should Never Be Victims

by 1BloggerandSociopathX1



Series: Heaps of Johnlock [5]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Again, Caring John, Case, Established Johnlock, Light Snogging, M/M, Mentions of Child Molestation, Short, Snogging, basically Sherlock screws up, but happy ending, casefic, eh, i might actually write this out properly later, i'm trying to write case fics, is it working?, just a little thing, mentions of child Sherlock, not in detail though, really short, the poor boys can't catch a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:13:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1BloggerandSociopathX1/pseuds/1BloggerandSociopathX1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock and John investigate a robbery in one of the most expensive flats in London and run into little Oscar Pine, will the case turn into more Sherlock can handle?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children Should Never Be Victims

Sherlock adored when cases became a bit more challenging than usual. Whether it was a locked room murder or a body found on the side of the road, Sherlock loved when he actually had to think about something. This didn't change if the cases got more personal or sentimental. However, when they dragged on and more people got hurt because he literally couldn't figure it out, he got annoyed with himself. And everyone around him. It made him more vulnerable. That was one reason why Moriarty had let him know those innocent people would be blown up if he didn't solve the cases so many years ago. John knew Sherlock adored the challenge, but it was obvious as time dragged on, and after the elderly woman died, that it started to get to him. At first he loved the attention of being the only one allowed to solve the cases, but as it went on that responsibility made it all the more stressful.

 Not many cases were as intense as the ones that had involved Moriarty in the years that came, but some came close. The Mayfly Man was one, as it occurred on his wedding day. John didn't think about that day much. Another case was when a dance studio was being targeted by a kidnapper/murderer. The man signed his brother up to take classes there, and his brother would walk out of class with his friends to be picked up by his older brother, then the elder would strike. The interesting thing about the case was that the little brother wasn't let in on the plan, so when interviews he had no idea what happened and was written off as not being involved. The group of friends would be talking outside each night, and the brother would slip out and grab a child, knocking them out and hiding them behind the building and coming back for them after dropping his brother at home. No one would notice that the child was gone until the parents came to get them and saw the studio was empty. The hardest part about that case was that Sherlock had taken classes at that same studio as a child.

 Then came along the case involving Oscar. Oscar was a six year old boy whose family was extremely wealthy. He lived in a penthouse in one of the most prestigious buildings in London with his father, Jacob Pine, one of the most hard working bankers at Goldman Sachs; one of, if not the most, successful banks in London. Oscar wasn't even entirely involved in the case at first. His father had contacted Sherlock to investigate whether or not one of the maids in his building was stealing from his flat. He didn't have much to go on, just a few missing pieces of silverware (yes, real silver) here and there and a pair or two of expensive cuff-links. John remembered when Sherlock was about to hang up the phone, because "A child alone in that flat all day, who obviously craves attention from a father who works constantly. Even you could solve it, John," but then Mr. Pine proclaimed that he would pay them a heavy sum if Sherlock just came and looked around for a bit. John convinced him to go after reminding him of the number of zeros at the end of the number Mr. Pine offered, and that they needed the money to buy a new stove (as Sherlock had so graciously destroyed theirs after some experiment involving table salt and zinc powder).

 John smirked as he followed Sherlock out of the cab, linking his hand with the detective's as the man complained about the stupidity of the case. John pulled him into the building, meeting Mr. Pine in the lobby and greeting him warmly on Sherlock's behalf. Sherlock just shook the man's hand and followed him to the lift. Throughout the course of the ride up, Mr. Pine explained some details that could have been of use.

 "I work every day except for Sundays from eight to six," He paused and glanced to Sherlock, as though proving how serious he was taking the thief, "I took off of work just to meet you."

 John smiled on Sherlock's behalf, saying, "Thank you, again. I'm sure we can get this all sorted out." He ignored Sherlock's snort of denial, still thinking there was nothing to sort out.

 Mr. Pine nodded and continued, "The cleaning crew is scheduled to come everyday at noon."

 John wrote this down, even though it was pretty straight forward, and Sherlock hardly gave any signs of listening, so John asked, "Do you pay the cleaners, or is it included in your rent?"

 "Its included, but I leave relatively generous tips."

 John glanced to Sherlock at that. Surely it was somewhat interesting that the cleaners would possibly steal if they were paid well. The expression on Sherlock's face of boredom was enough to answer his silent question, but the detective supplied him with the simple statement, "People get greedy, John."

 They made it up to the flat and Mr. Pine opened the door with his keys, stepping inside. It was a fine flat, in John's opinion. A bit too extravagant, but very fitting for someone who could afford it. There was a short hallway leading to the main room with large paintings covering the walls. The den was wide and open; the only thing separating the kitchen from the den was a few feet of dark wooden flooring. The den had a large couch that wrapped around the wall with a slick, black coffee table in front of it. There were two love seats in the den, and telling by all the lounging areas, it was obvious the man hand guests over frequently. A thin, long table stretched along a far wall of the den, and was probably only used for dinner parties, as the island of the kitchen had two place mats set for regular meals. There was a huge clear door that lead out to a patio that looked over the city, though it didn't seem to be used much, judging by there only being two chairs out there with a tiny table. There was another hallway leading to three doors. One being the guest loo, John assumed, and the others being Mr. Pine's and his son's room. John smiled the tiniest bit at his own deductions. Although they were nowhere close to being as brilliant as Sherlock's, he was proud that some of Sherlock had rubbed off on him.

 Sherlock spun in a small circle, looking around the flat and seeing a thousand more details than John saw. They followed Mr. Pine into the main room, who called out, "Oscar, we have guests!"

 This actually got a reaction out of Sherlock, who asked abruptly, "Does he not go to school?"

 John blinked and remembered that it was in fact October and that most children would be in school on a Thursday at eleven in the morning. Mr. Pine sighed, setting his keys on the coffee table, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand in exasperation, "For now he's home schooled." After noticing the look of interest of the detective and doctor's faces, he added, "Oscar's never really gotten along with other kids."

 This only seemed to bore Sherlock more, and the man muttered, "A socially shut in child whose father works constantly, who craves attention, how incredibly dull." He rolled his eyes and looked to Mr. Pine, "Your son is obviously the thief," he turned around with the intention of leaving, saying over his shoulder, "John will handle the method of payment, and I would suggest going to a family couns-"

 He was cut off by a small boy bumping right into him. John watched in amusement as the little boy looked up to Sherlock, and as Sherlock looked down to him. The detective nodded in greeting. The boy- Oscar- looked like a typical boy for the most part. Six years old, with blonde hair. He seemed small, even for a six year old, but not dangerously so. The only thing that made you look twice at him were the wide, interesting green eyes. They look like they belong on a doll, or at least on someone else. The boy had pale skin without a blemish on it, and it looked like blue eyes would suit him better, but the only colors present were different shades of green.

The boy said nothing, but he didn't seem to be too shy. Well, not shy enough to go cowering behind his father's legs. After a long few moments, in which the two seemed to be having a staring contest, John stepped in- or more rather, crouched in.

He crouched next to the little boy, his joints resisting though the doctor showed no sign of it. After crouching next to body after body, he had learned to ignore his own body's complaints. He gave a warm smile as Mr. Pine said, "Oscar, this is Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes."

John spoke up right away, holding out his hand to the boy and saying, "Just call me John." He had always had a soft spot for children. He figured it was due to his time in Afghanistan, seeing the children in the villages and having to walk by with his medical kit on his hip. He never remembered being so fond of children before that.

The boy just stared at him, and his father cleared his throat as though to say not to be rude. John just shook his head fondly, saying, "It's fine, sir." He stood up, the motion hurting his joints more. Once he was up, he looked at Sherlock again, who was still looking at the boy. They considered each other for a moment before the boy walked out abruptly. This caused John to snort, and earned him a raised eyebrow from Sherlock.

He shrugged, "Just reminds me of someone, I suppose," he snickered as Sherlock rolled his eyes fondly.

Mr. Pine wasn't as amused and muttered, "One moment," and followed his son down the hall.

Once they were alone, John turned to Sherlock, asking, "Do we have anything?"

Sherlock just looked down the hallway, "He didn't seem very nervous at all for a child that stole from his father."

"So maybe he didn't steal, Mr. Pine seems to think one of the maids did it."

Sherlock didn't respond right away, still looking down the hallway at something that wasn't there. When he did respond however, it was the slow voice he used when he was perplexed by something, "He didn't say a single thing."

John rose an eyebrow, responding slowly, "Maybe he's just quiet."

"Maybe..." he shook his head, saying, "He didn't look like he was craving attention, despite his father actually taking a day off work for once. He cou-"

"So sorry about that," Mr. Pine interrupted, "He just, well..." He seemed to be struggling for words.

Sherlock spoke up before John, saying simply, as though it were rehearsed, "He's just shy."

***

The case turned out to be nothing, one of the newer maids stealing in order to pay off her college debts. Sherlock hadn't been as disappointed as John assumed he would be, and even accompanied John to collect the check from Mr. Pine. When they got to the flat, however, something in Sherlock's demeanor changed. He looked around while the man signed the check before asking abruptly, "Where's Oscar?"

The man stiffened, something that perked John's interest, before saying, "He's gone to live with his mother."

Sherlock didn't miss a beat, saying, "Since yesterday you've packed all of his things, legally gave him to his birth mother, and had a party?"

It took John a moment, but he looked around and saw the trash can with paper plates and cups sticking over top of it, obviously more than one man could have used.

Before the man could respond, Sherlock had stepped closer, saying, "Try that again," oddly showing a darkness that he usually only showed to get information out of murderers and serial killers.

John secured the area, basically meaning he locked the door to the flat and closed the curtains, standing menacingly next to Sherlock. The police were called shortly after it was discovered that the man had sent his son to be looked after by an uncle, who was charged with child molestation years before. And then the search began. It appeared that the uncle had taken the child out of London, causing panic and the possibility of him leaving England.

***

Everything about it made John's skin crawl. The fact that the man supposedly had allowed his brother, a charged molester, to "babysit" his child. Mr. Pine had plead not guilty, however, saying that he never thought the charge should have been placed to begin with. Sherlock said that was a lie, obviously, and rolled his eyes. He didn't care that the man had just gotten frustrated and wanted a break from the boy. Mr. Pine pleaded that the boy was driving him insane by never saying a word. Sherlock just glared.

Sherlock was taking this hard, John noticed. He probably blamed himself for not noticing that something was off from the start. He was much more aggravated and John dared to say emotional. He couldn't figure out why. They had dealt with cases involving children before, but this seemed different. This was different from when Moriarty had the two children kidnapped by someone who looked like him. Sherlock hadn't made a mistake then, well, he hadn't made a big one. He hadn't missed something staring at him right in his face.

"You know it's not your fault, right?" John had asked one morning when he found Sherlock with maps spread about the flat, looking for different roads and trains the man could have taken without having to show any identification and have the molestation charge show up on his record.

Sherlock had remained silent.

***

Then there was at Scotland Yard. They had been going crazy looking for the boy, searching every webcam and surveillance footage available that would possibly show a small, blonde head of hair. Everyone was cranky from working so long with no results, and aggravated from having to work with an overly temperamental consulting detective.

Sherlock had been going through the previous case concerning the uncle, Jackson Pine, in the main area of the office, John at his side, when Sally Donavon walked up.

"Oi, Freak, we've already gone through those, it's pointless," she was carrying a stack of folders and looked very put out, though it seemed suitable as it was around midnight. This didn't mean John excused the insult, sitting up straighter and giving her a glare.

Sherlock didn't seem phased by her and continued silently going through the files. This seemed to annoy her even more. She set the other folders down loudly, exclaiming, "I'm talking to ya!"

She waved her hand in front of his face, and John didn't hesitate in swatting it away, despite her glare he muttered, "That's enough of that."

He turned his attention to Sherlock, saying softly, "Love, maybe we should start looking at something else..." he hated to agree with Sally, but when Greg gave them the files he said they had already gone through them. He had actually been working up the nerve to say something about it for the past hour and a half, and Sally just gave him the opportunity.

His hand had just gone to Sherlock's wrist when the detective pulled away, snapping, "If you want to trust these  _imbeciles's_  word on whether the files were searched thoroughly, be my guest, but I'm actually trying to solve a case, John!" He had stood up, gathering the files with the intention of storming off.

Before John could properly process what Sherlock had said, Sally was storming up to him, " _We're_ the imbeciles? I hate to have to spell this out for you, but the whole reason we are even searching for the kid is because of _you_!"

The whole department was staring now. It had been a few weeks sense Sherlock properly was yelled at, and it seemed that entertainment came easy. John stood up, but before he could get anything out other than, "Hey!" Sally began again.

" _We_ aren't the idiots this time, Freak. You saw 'em first, and you didn't _see_ or deduce or whatever damn thing you call it. Getting a bit slow? Did you really not-"

"That's enough!" John shouted at her before pulling Sherlock out of the Yard. He didn't care about one damn person in that building at the moment, and being yelled at in front of a hoard of people at midnight certainly wasn't going to help Sherlock find the boy.

When they were out on the pavement in front of the building, John turned to Sherlock, asking softly, in contrast to the harsh tone he used against Sally, "Are you alright?"

Sherlock said nothing, again. John didn't like this silent treatment. He huffed and looked at Sherlock for a long moment before looking for a cab. It took him a while, because usually Sherlock had cabs flocking to him immediately, and Sherlock was of no help whatsoever. They finally got one though. In the cab on the way back, John kept looking to Sherlock, expecting him to say _something_. He wanted Sherlock to speak, even if it meant complaining "we shouldn't have left, there's still work to do," but he got nothing.

It was worse when they got back to the flat. Sherlock was still oddly closed off as he climbed the stairs, John following closely behind. Sherlock went straight for the couch, but John stopped him by grabbing his hand. John wasn't going to sit and wait for Sherlock to come out of his mind palace to talk about this. Sherlock thankfully stopped, but he didn't turn around. John took this a sign to speak.

"They're all just tired, you know. We all are. It's a lot of stress, but no one actually blames you-"

"They should though!" Sherlock interrupted, yanking his hand away and saying sharply, turning around, "Of course they should blame me! I was there! I should have seen it, I should have-"

Then John hugged him. He wrapped his arms around the tall bloke, one hand soothingly going up and down his back while the other tried to move Sherlock's head down to John's shoulder. At first the action was resented, and Sherlock was stiff in his arms, but then he melted against John. His head was against John's shoulder, standing in the middle of the flat as the quiet night settled around them.

At one point, John pulled back enough to unbutton Sherlock's coat. Not sexually or anything, but tenderly, being oh so careful with Sherlock with the simplest of tasks. He slipped the scarf from around his detective's neck before taking the coat off of him, laying both on the arm of the couch before moving Sherlock to the couch. He sat down in the corner of the couch, one leg on it and the other hanging off of it, letting Sherlock lay down with his head on John's chest. They were quiet for a long time before John finally asked, "What's different about this one?"

Sherlock shifted a bit, and for a moment John thought he wouldn't answer, but then he finally did, "I was distracted."

He didn't elaborate more so John asked, softly, "Distracted by what? Oscar?"

Sherlock nodded, dark curls brushing across John's neck. When he didn't speak, John moved a hand into his hair, continuing, "What about him?" He remembered how off Sherlock had been when he first met Oscar.

Sherlock pursed his lips, turning his head so he was looking at the empty fireplace across the flat. He seemed to be working up the nerve to discuss something, so John gave him some time. Sherlock seemed to run on his own clock anyways.

"When I was little," he began, "I didn't..." he bit his lip, reconsidering his words before continuing, "I wouldn't speak to anyone for a long time." At John's silence he added, "Years."

John slowed his hand in Sherlock's hair, saying slowly, "Well, plenty of kids don't talk for a while..."

"I was eight, John."

John fell silent after that, knowing that was extremely odd for anyone, even the magnificent Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock continued, "I was just distracted. I should have paid more attention, but you were there, John. It was an open and shut case. I should have been more alert."

John shushed him, saying softly, "It was an open and shut case, who would have known that there was something going on?"

"I should have."

John sighed before sitting up, taking Sherlock with him. Sherlock turned around to look at him, closing his eyes briefly when John kissed him. John whispered against his lips, "You aren't superman, Sherlock. You can't get it right every time."

Sherlock pulled back, saying, "But I should get it right when it matters."

John just smiled softly, sitting up more and pulling Sherlock gingerly back to him, "Come on now, don't beat yourself up too much." And with that, he took Sherlock's lips deeper. One hand went to that perfect jaw and the other pulled Sherlock closer so he was on John's lap. Sherlock ran his hands through John's hair, nipping at his bottom lip before John granted him access to his mouth.

A few fantastic things about snogging Sherlock Holmes were:

1\. The bloke was overly enthusiastic about it every single time.

2\. Because of that, getting little noises out of him was surprisingly easy.

3\. Sherlock Holmes was fucking _brilliant_ at kissing the hell out of John.

The list could go on and on, and it would have, had Sherlock's phone not gone off.

A negative thing about snogging Sherlock Holmes was that it never seemed to last quite long enough.

Sherlock pulled back, pecking John's lips once more before pulling his phone out of his trouser pocket. He stayed perched in John's lap, reading the screen. John felt himself grin as Sherlock abruptly smiled, exclaiming, "I _knew_ they didn't look through the files completely!"

John had a feeling Sally would owe a certain genius an apology once it was brought to light that Sherlock was right. The dark haired man leaned forward and captured John's lips quickly, earning a hum of surprise from John before he leaped from his lap. He slipped on his coat, tying his scarf as he grinned, "Come along, John!"

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, sorry about that ending. Pretty bad, pretty cliffhanger-ish, but I'm certain our boys solved the case. I just wanted to see Sherlock handle a child case. Really this started as Sherlock just meeting a kid on a case, but then it evolved and idk actually, but I hope you liked it!


End file.
